Vigil
by patricia51
Summary: Set at the end of "Kill Chain". Tim waits by Delilah's bedside after the attack. Tim/Delilah.


Vigil by patricia51

(Set at the end of "Kill Chain". Tim waits by Delilah's bedside after the attack. Written before "Double Back" because I'm afraid how the show will resolve this and I want to get my hopes in first before they're dashed. Tim/Delilah.)

Tim McGee ran his hands over his face and the through his hair. Well, considering how short he kept his hair there wasn't much to run through but it was the gesture that counted. He was lost. He looked helplessly at the form on the bed. Various monitors beeped. Tubes ran from arcane equipment to various parts of that form.

He got out of the chair. Three paces took him to the door. He turned and three more steps took him back to the chair. He dropped into it and immediately bounced back to his feet. He turned around, his gaze taking in the room as though looking for something. Which he was. He was searching for some way to escape this nightmare. And that wasn't going to happen because this was real.

His strength flowed out of him as though a last reservoir had finally emptied and he collapsed in the chair. He scooted it closer to the bed. Almost hesitantly he reached out and touched an arm. His fingers gently stroked the skin.

"God," he murmured. "What a night." He thought about it. Just the last few hours, from the time they were just about to go into the gala ballroom. The call from Tony, the sight of the drone coming in, the explosion that threw him down covered him with broken glass but left him unharmed. As soon as he was on his feet he had frantically charged into the main room to try to find Delilah. And he had. He remembered throwing broken furniture and rubble from her body and his heart nearly stopping at the sight of her wounds.

There had been the wild ride to the hospital and the pacing up and down while she underwent surgery. She was out and he thought things would be alright. Then the alarm had sounded and there had been the wild rush of medical personnel to her bedside, ignoring his desperate pleas to tell him what was wrong. He knew intellectually that they had no time for that; that they were devoting every effort to saving her life but not knowing just scared him out of his wits.

She had gone back into surgery and emerged hours later, still in critical condition but holding on they told him. He had tried to go to work; he NEEDED to go to work but Gibbs had been firm with him. So he was back here.

"Delilah," he started and stopped. Had there been an observer he or she would have seen the lost look on his face give way to something like determination.

"He was right you know. Gibbs. This is where I need to be. I tried to convince him otherwise but I was just being the one thing I have been lately. Scared. And everyone knew it. 'Don't use me as an excuse,' Gibbs said when I tried to weasel out of the gala by claiming work. What he was really telling me was to quit dodging and face it; to stop being scared."

"Everyone has been on me lately about how I've been acting with you. Not wanting to go to the gala with you just set them all off. Even Tony knew what it was. Part of it anyway. He rolled himself over to my desk and started to talk. "You think that maybe Delilah's too good for you. Well a man's reach should exceed his grasp."

But it was, of course, Abby who gave me hell and then set me straight. I remember the first time you two met and you commenting how awkward it was. Then you two had to work together and by the end you were not only praising each others' skills you had become friends. You have that effect you know. Ellie Bishop, our new analyst, was beside herself at getting to meet you." He smiled; a smile that had no real substance to it. "At least she didn't rip me about my attitude. She's great at her job and nice but she stood right there between us and talked about her parking spot and never noticed the tension in the elevator."

"But back to Abby. I was in her lab and she wanted to know what was going on with you. I waffled. I mumbled about how I needed space and it was all moving too fast and started listing the things that made me think that when in reality they were the signs of why our relationship was so good. And she nodded and turned her attention to the monitors. That was just before she smacked me. And told me what an idiot I was."

"She started with 'Oh boo-hoo. My super-hot, super-smart girlfriend likes me too much?' She didn't slow down. She told me it wasn't about my needing space. 'It's about you being scared.' She was right on target. 'You can't protect yourself from everything' and her trump card 'Delilah is like the best thing that ever has happened to you.' And she was right. I was afraid of being hurt."

"You might say that was silly. Heck you might better say that was stupid. And you'd be right. But you have to understand. Relationships have always seemed to end up hurting me. And every woman I have been involved with, not that there have been very many of those, always has seemed to end up being killed or being a spy working for the bad guys. Or both. So I was afraid and trying to protect myself. Not that it excuses any of my behavior."

He took her hand and twined his fingers with hers, careful not to disturb any of the wires and tubes. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "I'm sorry about so many things I barely know where to begin. I'm sorry about how I've acted lately. I'm sorry how I've pulled away when I should have been embracing what we have. I'm sorry I wasn't in the room with you. Maybe some of the shrapnel could have hit me instead of you. I would have been glad to do that, happy to take wounds instead of you. Because Delilah you ARE the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry for not telling you that instead of hiding it from even myself. I AM terrified of losing you. I'm terrified that the last words I will have ever said to you are 'I'll meet you inside' when they should have been 'I love you'. For I do love you Delilah Fielding. Don't leave me."

Silence settled in the room. The exhaustion, physical and emotional, that weighed on Tim made his body sag. Careful once more he rested his head on the mattress against her arm. His eyes closed and he wept.

He nearly fell asleep. He was so tired. He was so tired he didn't feel her fingers tighten around his. He didn't hear the first whisper. At the second one he thought he was dreaming. The third one brought his head up, wide awake and his eyes met hers. A ghost of a smile hovered on Delilah's lips.

"Tim. Why didn't you say that to begin with? I love you too."

There were nurses, there were doctors, there was confusion and there were examinations and pronouncements. But none of that made any difference to Tim who refused to let go of her hand regardless of what was asked or commanded of him. He had her back, he had her for good and he was never going to let her go.

(The End)

(Okay, I admit it. NCIS has such a habit of killing off its female stars and they have always handed Tim the short end of the romance stick that I'm scared they'll do it again. So I want a happy ending for Tim and Delilah and here it is.)


End file.
